My Favourite is Vanilla
by full-of-wrackspurts
Summary: A reporter has two interviews with Harry. She asks what is your favourite ice cream flavour? At the first she gets the answer, at the second, the reason why. AKA Harry talks about a happy memory during his childhood while promoting his memoirs.
A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated products and I am not earning any money from playing around with the world of JK Rowling. If I was I would have my own island and my own chocolate factory.

Warnings- mild references to abuse and neglect but no worse than what is in canon.

 **My Favourite is Vanilla**

Fifteen years ago as a young, enthusiastic and naive reporter for Witch Weekly I sat in a private room at the Leaky Cauldron preparing for an interview with the Chosen One, the Defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named, the one and only Harry Potter. In my naivety I thought that a week after the battle would be the perfect time to get an exposé. But in front of me was a tired, scarred and bruised teenager. As I asked questions referring to the battle, his time on the run, his friends, I could see his shoulders slumping and his answers became more and more monosyllabic. So, as my scheduled time drew to an end I asked a question to bring him out of the darkness.

"OK, Mr Potter, final question. What is your favourite ice-cream flavour?"

He looked up at me with scepticism. "That's your final question?"

"Humour me, Mr Potter. Your fans would like to know."

"Fine." He huffed. "My favourite flavour is vanilla."

"Vanilla," I almost screeched. "But you spent a summer getting free ice-creams from Florean Fortescue. Surely you got some more interesting flavours than that?"

"Sure. Rainbow Snozberry Marshmallow Ripple was interesting, but you asked for my favourite and my favourite is vanilla." Potter said defensively.

"But why?"

"I can't believe I'm answering this," he muttered, "because vanilla is simple. It doesn't try too hard and you know what you're getting. Besides it was the first ice cream I tasted."

"Really, how old were you?" I asked pushing for a story, as at that point his childhood story was a complete mystery.

"I'll let you know when I write my memoirs," he said sarcastically.

"Memoirs? Is that your next move then Mr Potter?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake. I will never, ever write memoirs, there are enough books about me as it is! I think that is the end of this interview, don't you?"

"With that the Man-Who-Won stood up and left in a cloud of anger and depression."

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Today, the 15th anniversary of that interview, he returns to the Leaky Cauldron for a very rare interview and, I hope, to answer the question I asked all that time ago.

"Good morning, Mr Potter."

"Morning. Call me Harry."

"Now, first things first. Why are you releasing memoirs? The last time we met you mocked the idea."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Harry swept his hair back from his forehead, then taking a deep breath he gave one the most honest answers I've ever received from a celebrity. "I was only 17 at the time and I had just finished fighting in a war. I had PTSD and depression and looking back at my life all at once like that wouldn't have been a good idea. Also I don't know any 17-year-old who thinks they are old enough to have a biography."

"So what's changed?"

"Me. I have changed, I'm ready to tell my story and my children are old enough to hear it."

"There is a rumour that these books were released because of the scandal surrounding your departure from the Auror Office."

"I'd hardly call it a scandal. My boss and I merely had a difference of opinion over recent hiring practices and I decided to leave. If my "memoir," he said in a disbelieving way, "makes them think again about the stance they're taking I wouldn't object, but I've fought enough battles in my lifetime. I don't want to start another one."

Are you talking about the Minister's decision to reinstate background checks for Death Eaters and suspected supporters?"

"Amongst other things. Don't ask any more." he said holding up his hand. "If you want more information, you'll have to buy the books."

Sensing the barriers going up, I decided to go down a different track. "In that case, let me ask you a question I first asked 15 years ago. Why vanilla?"

"That was you? Blimey that was a long time ago, I got sent so many recipes after that interview, I gave them to Molly, she now has a recipe book full of vanilla flavoured things." He stopped for a minute, shaking his head. "I'm sure this is not what my publicist or your editor wants me to talk about but I'm sure they'll forgive me."

His publicity manager is of course Hermione Weasley, nee Granger, brains of the Golden Trio, his lifelong friend and impressive enough on her own merits, as the one-time Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic.

At this point, reader, I must apologise. I know that questions about their supposed relationship throughout the years and the relationship between all three members of the Golden Trio will be spilling from your lips but, just this once, forgive me for my lack of journalistic enquiry. The answer I wanted for 15 years was in my grasp and believe me readers it was worth the wait.

"Right." Mr Potter readied himself to answer. "Why vanilla is my favourite flavour. I promised an answer I keep my promises. I didn't tell you at the time because it was too personal but now my memoirs are out I don't have a lot to hide. Are you aware of my childhood with my relatives?"

"I've heard rumours but none were confirmed."

For those who don't know, Mr Potter grew up with his maternal aunt, her husband and his cousin. He has asked me not to mention their names in order to protect them from, as he put it, 'enthusiastic' fans. The book discusses some of his childhood and it is not the one you would expect. Rumours such as being chained up in a shed, being forced to clean for 24 hours a day and being hunted by dogs have all been linked to the Boy-Who-Lived and as Harry revealed were close to fact.

Ok, Well I can tell you now that 90% of the rumours are true. The cupboard under the stairs, the starvation, the hand me downs and I was fed through a cat-flap for one summer. The one where they made me sleep on the roof naked is nonsense though. I lived in an abusive household but punishments were mostly kept behind closed doors and the most common thing was being deprived of food and drink. That meant that living with [striked to protect privacy] meant I didn't get a lot of luxuries.

If I did get something to eat, it was leftovers and never sweets or chocolate. But one day, here he leaned forward conspiratorially, and said with the voice of an excited child, I tasted vanilla ice-cream.

It is not a skill that he shows often in public but Harry is a skilled storyteller and within a few sentences he had me in his spell. At this point I was no longer a journalist. All I could focus on was this little boy and I needed to hear more of his story.

"How?" I whispered. "How were you able to find ice-cream?"

"I was 6 years old and my Aunt had sent me to pick up groceries. All of the neighbours knew who I was and were used to me being alone."

"Did none of them ever say anything about you?"

"[striked to protect privacy] was not a friendly neighbourhood. If something bad had happened to a neighbour, the information was held until it could cause the most damage, so people may have seen what was going on but they were not going to help me until it benefitted them.

"That's horrible." I whispered.

"People are people. But there were a few who helped me in small ways. One of them was the owner of the shop. The day I had gone in to get groceries, one of the freezers had broken down." (Seeing my blank look, he quickly explained: "It's like a big storage box with a permanent cooling charm powered by electricity"). "It had broken down and the shop owner was angrily putting the products in a bin bag to dump them but then he saw me. He never directly helped me but I knew he was one of the few who actually noticed what was going on and, every so often, gave me hope there were good people in the world. He saw me looking and chucked a tub of vanilla ice cream in my direction. Knowing that my aunt and cousin would take it away from me, claim I stole it and use it as an excuse to punish me, I knew I had to eat it then and there.

I snuck round to the back of the shop, hiding in a storage area. I gingerly opened the tub looking around, checking to see if anyone had seen me but I was hidden. The first thing I did was lick the lid. It was a tiny taste but I loved it. It was rich and sweet and creamy. It took me ages to finish the tub because I was savouring every single bite. By the time I got to the bottom, the ice cream had melted to soup and I lifted it up and drained it.

That's why I love vanilla. It was my first taste of rebellion and my first taste of freedom. I've tasted a lot of ice cream but vanilla will always remind me of a pleasant memory of my childhood and I don't have a lot of them. Also I don't know how but I never got in trouble for it, even though Iwas late getting back with the groceries. I think it was magic." Then surprisingly after that sad tale he let out a chuckle.

"If I remember right, last time you brought up that I spent a summer getting free ice cream from Fortescues."

"Yes, I did."

"Florean spent that summer trying to convince me that there were so many better flavours than vanilla. He got more, and more inventive each day. I think the most elaborate was frazzleberry, choc chip, mint, cookie, fairydust and lemon mixed together. Harry's eyes sparkled in happy reminiscence. "Eventually though, on the last day before going to Hogwarts, he said 'I have tried and tried' and he presented me with a simple vanilla cone. It was, and still is. the best ice-cream I've ever had."

This pretty much sums up Harry Potter. You can try and impress with impressive gifts and platitudes, but all he really wants is a simple, heartfelt gift, something small like vanilla ice cream.

"Ok Harry. I have one more question. Would you describe yourself as vanilla?" (and get your minds out the gutter that is not what I meant)

"I want to be but I don't think fate will let me. People forget to enjoy the pleasures of simplicity and act more impressive than they are when it's not needed. I may have done some stuff when I was a teenager but at the end of the day, I'm Harry, Just Harry. My favourite thing in the world is spending time with my family. Anything else I get is just the sprinkles."

"So readers, I finally got my answer. The Boy Who Lived, the Man-Who-Won, the Chosen One will always choose vanilla because as a little boy it was a taste of happiness. That little boy, who grew up to fight monsters as a teenager, who grew up to protect the people by becoming an Auror, who grew up to become a loving father of three, still exists deep inside the Man-Who-Won. Even now it is vanilla that he will choose at the ice cream counter. Harry Potter likes to introduce himself as Harry, just Harry, but, despite his best efforts, his choices show he is and always will be a hero.

His memoirs tell the tales you've always heard but never believed were true. Trolls, spiders, chess sets, dragons, Quidditch, love potions, possessions. Even the Chamber of Secrets. Yet the most revealing aspect of Harry Potter's character is found in the dedication:

"Harry had to be convinced to tell his story. He would prefer that this book didn't exist and that his story would fade into obscurity. His family hope that the release of these books will show him just how amazing he is. This is not the story of The Boy Who Lived or the Chosen One. It is the story of a boy named Harry, just Harry, who became the Man-Who-Won and a father of three thanks to the support of family, friends and most importantly, through never giving up the fight even in the worst of circumstances. The Boy Who Lived is the one the world looks up to, at the end of this book he will be forgotten and Harry will be the one you love. "

People think vanilla is simple but get the right combination and it is the most intense flavour there is.


End file.
